The Past
by The-Risen-One
Summary: Bella Swan is trying to forget what has happened. With a cruel family and a permanent reminder of who is still out there for her, Bella struggles to survive. But when a mysterious boy with impossible powers barges into her life, she is suspicious and wary. "I don't know what it is about him, but there's something about him that's not...human." AU, Non-Vampire
1. Prologue-The Dream

**AN: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, situations, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**So…hopefully this doesn't suck. I know it's short, but it's just the prologue. Other chapters will be posted soon.**

**The Dream**

I hear the soft call of the birds outside on the beautiful spring day. The air is filled with the sights and smells of the jazz age of New Orleans. I can distinctly hear a light saxophone playing, and the buzz of people talking and walking. A warm breeze fills the room of the boudoir, and the sun shines through the window making me feel…

…absolutely nothing.

I am numb. My face. My body. My own sense of self is completely numb. I am unfeeling, finally, after days and days of crying. The scratch of the sheets beneath my cheek does little to comfort me. The sharp edges of the paper in my hand is now reduced to nothing more than a crumpled hope. A dreaded feeling that has now come to fruition.

_Dear Ms. Stone,_

_It is with our greatest pleasure that we invite you to attend the wedding ceremony between Ms. Caroline Evanscell and Mr. Robert Leroux. The ceremony will be held at the—_

I squeeze my eyes tighter, refusing to let more tears spill. I will not cry any longer. I do not care anymore for them. For him. This stabbing feeling of utter loneliness will pass, just like the last time…and the time before that.

The laughter of small children tears me from my mourning, and it is with the deepest of sighs, I heave myself from my bed and walk towards the window. Looking down from my sill, I see two little girls playing down the street with some chalk. They giggle and whisper to each other, confessing darkest secrets and forging a bond that will last a lifetime. They are happy, here in this world. Their lives are uncomplicated and simple. They have never known the feeling of love, of heartbreak. Never experienced the sorrow of a love lost. Or worse, still, the knowledge that their love has found someone else. Someone better. But they will, soon enough. It is inevitable.

I turn back and look around my room. Clothes are scattered haphazardly. My chair and desk is overturned, and my small vanity mirror has been shattered. Jagged pieces litter the floor in little, tiny pieces. As the sunlight hits the pieces, it sends prisms glistening all around my room. I feel like I am surrounded by tiny fairies dancing all around me. Shiny, beautiful fairies who are happy and free to do as they wish.

I want to join them.

I want to be free of this, of my body. I want to fly away and never look back. I want to forget that I ever lived here, that I ever met and fell in love with Robert Leroux. I want to forget that I ever saw him introduce to me his blushing bride, Caroline.

And I can. I will.

Smiling, for what seems like the first time in years, I walk slowly towards my mirror. I ignore the glass pieces cutting into my bare feet, instead I welcome the pain. It gives me a new sense of determination. I reach my destroyed vanity and find a big, jagged piece that lay unceremoniously on the floor. I pick it up and handle it delicately, gently. The reflection catches my eye and for a moment, I see myself. I see a sad, desperate creature of darkness that has given up on life. On happiness.

On hope.

I walk towards my bed and lay back down, still smiling in my decision. I no longer want to be here. I wish to fly, like the fairies that glisten around me. I look once more towards the walls of my room, and I swear I saw one move. It almost seems like a sign. An omen, telling me that this is the only way I can be free. The only way I will ever be happy, and that I never have to return here again.

It is not until my vision grows darker that I look down and see the large, gaping wound in my left wrist. Bright red rubies pour from the laceration, shining beautifully in the last fading rays of sunset. And as my vision grows darker, and my feeling of the world around me slips further and further into oblivion, a brilliant flash of white invades my senses.

"NO!"


	2. The Girl

**A/N: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, situations, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Welp, here we go kids.**

**The Girl**

A scream tears through my lips as I sit up quickly.

My breath comes in pants and sweat trickles down my forehead. I have a moment of panic and take in my surroundings, when I realize I am in my room. I see the familiar dresser and mirror, with a chair beside it. My desk, in its usual organized mess, sits next to my window while the curtain dances in the autumn breeze.

My breath slows and my panic subsides as I realize it was just another dream. Or night terror, as my therapist would call it. Whatever they were called, they were becoming more and more frequent and they were always the same. My pain, my sorrow, followed by my suicide. And each time, right before my death, a white flash and an agonizing scream would appear.

Shaking the depressing dream out of my head, I lay back down on the bed, fully intending on sleeping, when the familiar blare of my alarm clock goes off.

"Agh! Are you kidding me?!" I groan as I reach over and slap the offending clock. I roll my eyes at my ill-timed awakening and snuggle deeper into my covers in defiance.

Surely another five minutes of sleep won't kill me…

I'm in that blissful place of awareness and sleep when a pounding comes at my door.

"Bella! Bella! Are you awake? Bella! Carmen says to wake up. Are you awake? Huh? Are ya? Come on Bella, wake up!" says the harbinger of doom.

"Christ, Jane, I'm up!" I shouted, mentally banging my head against the wall. I hear her light giggle then her tiny footsteps dancing away from my door. Annoying, little imp never knows when to shut up.

Ever.

Sighing in frustration, I rip the warm sheets away and my cold body instantly protests. Not wanting to fall back asleep and risk Jane coming back up, I hobble over to the bathroom attached to my room and crank the shower on. Popping any joint that will, I huff at myself as I prepare to shower. Why do I keep having these kinds of dreams? What the heck is wrong with me? I'm not suicidal. I'm a little damaged, to be sure, but I would never take my own life. They don't happen every night, I would never sleep if that were to happen, but they occur about every other week. Always a different setting, a different time, but it's the same outcome.

I rub at my aching neck and peer at myself in the mirror. Dark shadows decorate my eyes, a result of yet another night of restless sleep. My brown eyes are dull and lifeless, my hair limp. My lips are cracked and peeling from my nervous habit of biting them constantly. My only redeemable feature, my pale skin, seems to amplify my other dreary features tenfold. As I catalogue all of my flaws and imperfections, I am wondering if I have ever looked in this mirror and not seen some flaw. I think back to when I first started comparing myself to other, prettier, women and come up blank. I feel like I have done this since I was a little girl. To which Dr. Platt tells me is a "natural, but entirely unnecessary habit".

I think she's full of shit.

Shrugging at my reflection, I turn around and wash myself, getting ready for another school day. Another day to smile, and pretend everything is okay. To pretend that my insides don't feel like they are coming out of my body, that I don't feel suffocated underneath my clothes. To act like all the world needs is a spoonful of sugar and some Justin Bieber tunes to cheer them up.

As I rinse myself off, my hand ghosts over the scar across my upper torso.

Don't look at it. Don't even think about it. Smile at your family. Laugh with your friends. Be normal. Be happy.

I don't stop chanting this to myself until I step out of the shower, hastily dry myself, and throw clothes on before I have time to think. Once the safety net of my red sweater covers me, I feel slightly better. I take a second to center myself before putting on some jeans and sneakers. Taking a much needed deep breath, I run a towel over my head and brush my hair before joining my sisters at breakfast.

I can smell the bacon and toast as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. The sight of Carmen, our housekeeper, making breakfast greets me and I happily sit down on a barstool, awaiting the precious calories that my teenage body craves but doesn't need.

"Did you sleep good last night, querida?" she asks, not looking up from the skillet. Her stout frame dominates my view of the stove, with her curly salt and pepper hair piled high on her head and some sort of floral frock covering the rest of her.

"Not really, no." I say, not even trying to lie about it. She can always tell when I'm lying to her anyways. It's downright creepy sometimes.

She pushes some bacon onto a nearby plate with toast, and turns to look at me. Her dark brown eyes show concern and her thick brows furrow in worry.

"Bad dreaming, again?" she questions, putting my plate in front of me. I take a couple bites of bacon, savoring the flavor, before I answer.

"Yeah, bad dreaming," I don't even bother to correct her grammar. I find it endearing, not to mention she never understands it clearly.

She nods her head in understanding, but doesn't question it further. That's one of the things I love about Carmen, she doesn't constantly pester me about crap I don't want to talk about. She knows to just leave well enough alone.

Carmen is probably the closest to me in this household, which is quite sad when I really think about it. She's taken care of me since I was a baby, assuming the role of surrogate mother when mine was too busy sucking on a bottle of Jack Daniels. My dad, who did what he could financially, was always gone away on some case, being one of Chicago's leading defense attorneys. At least I knew he knew we were alive.

"Breakfast, Carmen!" squealed Jane, who planted her too-happy butt next to mine.

Jane, who was the baby of the family at just 8 years old, was the optimist of the dysfunctional bunch. She is definitely the "oops" child, as my mother definitely did not want another. I remember her and my dad screaming at each other when they found out. Probably deciding whether or not to abort her or not.

Unfeeling bastards.

Whatever made them decide to keep her, her she was in all her curly-haired, blonde glory. Jane talks a million miles a minute, about anything and everything. In one minute, she can go from talking about what her friend, Marcie, told her during Art to what color shirt a tall man was wearing to her ballet recital.

It was blue.

For all of her faults and annoyances, I couldn't help but protect the little one. She definitely needed it from the likes of our parents and –

"What the hell is that smell?"

Tanya.

"Is that bacon? You know I'm on a non-fat, all-organic diet, Carmen! I can practically feel the fat in the air landing on my pores. God, do you know what this could do to my skin? Ruin it, that's what!" she screeched, turning her delicate nose in the air and stomping to the bathroom to, I presume, wash off the impurities that dare land on her face.

I'm not sure if it's possible to wipe "bitch" off of one's face. I'll have to look into it.

I roll my eyes and continue to eat my all-fat, kosher meal. Tanya is the ultimate cliché as the snobby, queen bee of high school. Her reign reaches all of Forks High School, extending to everyone in her wake. With blonde hair curled and tan skin glistening, she rules with a horde of drones she thinks are her friends, and the guys bow down and worship her at her feet. I don't know how she does it, since I think her to be an artificial, soul-sucking harpy who only gains pleasure from other peoples misery, including mine. However, I think it's just one of the ways karma likes to kick me square in the ass whenever I think I've had enough.

Jane continues to prattle on about something nonsensical, but I nod every so often so she thinks I'm listening. I hear a toilet flush before I see Tanya obstruct my view of the wall.

"Zoning out, space cadet?" she sneers, picking at her manicures nails.

"Barfing up the rice cake you had this morning, heifer?" I retort, shooting her a dirty look before I take my plate to the dishwasher as Carmen readies Jane for school.

Tanya began to open her mouth to yell when Carmen stepped between us.

"No time for fight. You three must be getting to school!" she cried, pushing us all out the door.

I went to grab for my backpack on the floor when Tanya's foot kicked it across the floor.

"Freak," she whispered to me, before stomping out the door.

I huff before picking up the backpack and heading into Tanya's black Lexus, a birthday present from dear mom and dad. Jane is still happily talking in the back while Tanya chauffeurs the three of us to school. Since Jane is only 8, she goes to the elementary prep school, Troy, which is only a couple blocks away from Forks Prep, where Tanya and I attend. Jane has barely shut the door before Tanya drives like a bat out of hell towards Forks.

"What the hell? Slow down!" I gasp, clinging on to the seat for dear life.

Tanya is undeterred, "I have an appointment with Mr. Stevens this morning and I can't be late." Her foot presses further on the gas.

Please, Lord, forgive me of all my sins…

"You know, just because you call your little trysts with our chemistry teacher an appointment doesn't make it any less obvious," I say.

Tanya's answer to this is to simply shrug and smirk evilly.

She's not even denying it? God that is gross.

Shuddering, I try to think happy thoughts as I feel the car slowing down, than finally braking. I walk on wobbly legs out of the car and mentally kiss the ground. Since it was still a little early, I decide to sit on the roof of the car and wait for my friends to get here. The slight chill in the air turns my warm breath to steam as I breathe in and out. The cold settles on my chest like a small, dead weight. However, this chill is nothing compared to the chill I get after one of those dreams.

Laying down and closing my eyes, I let the memory of my dream float back to me. The broken mirror, the smell of rice and beignet, the hard corners of the invitation, it all seemed real to me. Felt real. It didn't feel normal, but then again, what dream is normal?

I don't have long to ponder this, because I soon feel a shadow over my face. I crack open one eye to see a tiny, brunette creature bounce up and down excitedly.

"Guess what?!" she squeals.

I grin in amusement, "What?"

"I heard that Riley McGinty wants to ask you to the Halloween dance next Friday!" she giggled, her blue eyes bright with excitement.

I cocked an eyebrow at her excitement, "And, just how much was he paid to do this?" I question, sliding off of the Lexus.

She huffs and stamps her foot like an impatient child, "He wasn't paid anything! He's had a major crush on you since summer. He's just too shy to say anything," she explains, walking with me towards the benches on the quad outside the front doors.

I roll my eyes and think of last summer, and to what she might be referring to. I remember going to someone-or-other's birthday pool party and Riley happened to be there. I remember refusing to take my cover-up off the entire time. I also remember thinking Riley looking godly in his black board shorts. His lightly tanned skin seemed to glow in the sun as its rays hit the water still clinging to his body. He looked so happy and carefree as he shook his dark hair dry while talking to his friends. Girls flocked to him in a circle, including my sister, pathetically enough. Riley was the cutest, most popular guy in school. As the basketball team's point guard and star, his league and mine…well…they didn't touch. I'm not saying that I'm unpopular or an outcast. However, I do know where my limits are with the opposite sex. Riley was the epitome of off-limits.

I shake my head as we sit on the cold cement bench, "Riley McGinty may be a lot of things, Alice, but he is definitely not shy. Are you sure we are talking about the same guy?" I question, picking at my cuticles. I swear to myself that I will go home and clip them as soon as I'm able.

"That may be true about anyone, but you know as well as I do that talking to a crush is difficult stuff. Riley is probably the same way you and I are about talking to someone we like. It can be intimidating!" she says, her hand wildly gesturing around.

I snort and continue to pick at my nails.

She continues. "Stop picking at your nails. This is so cute though, right? Imagine it: he sees you in the hallway. He glances at you shyly from beneath those unbelievably long lashes of his. He walks with his head bent down, so scared of rejection! He asks you quietly if you will accompany him to the dance. Shut up, he would say accompany! Anyway, you nod your head in acceptance. His smile lights up his face and he blushes a light shade of pink," she sighs, lost in the daydream.

My laughter breaks her of her illusion.

"I think you're more excited than I am about this, Ali," I say, lightly giggling at her expression.

She narrows her eyes at me. "Well you should be excited! Why aren't you happy about this? I would be over the moon about it if I didn't have Jasper."

I shake my head at her. "Where did you even get this information?" Alice may be a lot of things, most of them harmless, but I can smell a rumor from a mile away.

She smiles. "Well, I heard it from Sarah, who got it from her boyfriend Zack, who is friends with Riley, who he says Riley said he was going to ask you." She ticks off the list of people on her hand like checking off a list of what to pack for a sleepover.

Ah the grapevine of the high school rumor mill.

"Alice, that does not sound like a reliable source at all. I think you are delusional," I quip, wanting the conversation to be over.

"Who's delusional?" asks a quiet male voice.

I look up to see Jasper walking slowly toward us, his eyes trained on Alice. She turns around and beams up at him. He smiles softly and sits behind her on the bench, his eyes never really leaving hers.

"The Chihuahua sitting in front of you," I answer, feeling like I'm interrupting a private moment.

He breaks eye contact with Alice and grins at me. "What did she say this time?" he ponders, grabbing Alice's hand and playing with her fingers. My cheeks burn as I feel more and more like I intrude on their time.

I try to brush it off and roll my eyes, "She thinks that Riley McGinty wants to ask me to the dance."

He looks at me blankly.

I gesture wildly with my hands. "Well obviously she's crazy!"

"Excuse me, I'm right here! And I'm not crazy, am I Jasper?" she pouts, actually jutting her lip out in petulance.

He grins softly. "I'm going to have to agree with Alice here on this one. I heard it, too."

"Then it must be a bet," I say, just as I hear the five minute bell ring.

Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I switch to another subject. "I had another dream again," I murmur, grabbing my backpack and walking in the front door with Alice and Jasper.

"What was it about this time?" asks Alice, tilting her head to the side in worry.

"It was pretty much the same as every other dream, the only thing that was different was the time and place," I answer, reaching my locker and setting my bag down.

They both hang by my locker. "Where were you this time?" asks Alice.

"New Orleans. Sometime in the 1920's."

"Ooh that's so cool!" she squeals, but after seeing the incredulous look on my face, she quickly looks sheepish, "Except for the whole, you know, dying thing."

"Do you think maybe your mind is trying to tell you something?" Jasper ponders, absentmindedly wrapping his arm around Alice.

"I sincerely doubt it," I reply pithily, "They're just some stupid dreams that mean I need to lay off the slasher movies."

Jasper shakes his head softly and, with a kiss on Alice's forehead, heads to his first period, "I'll see you at lunch."

We wave him goodbye and head to our Creative Writing class.

"Maybe you should talk with your therapist about them," suggests Alice as we take our seats in class.

I shake my head, "There's really nothing to talk about. They're just dreams."

"You and I both know that there's more to it than that. You have, for all intents and purposes, a reoccurring dream about suicide. Don't you think there's some kind of Freudian crap going on in that?" she asks.

I snort. "Please, that guy was a total perv. He would probably just think I want to do my father. And now I need some brain bleach," I retort, as I rub my eyes furiously, trying not to think about what I just said.

I hear her giggle before the tardy bell rings and Mr. Pendra begins class. This is my favorite class of the day, and as always, it goes by too soon. By the time the bell rings, I feel like a weight drops on my chest. The rest of my day, I have either Tanya or one of her cronies in my classes, and they never fail to make my life hell.

So, in short, it's going to be a good day.

My next class, History, I actually mIrinage to skate by without any damage, but my luck soon ran out when I had to talk to Mrs. Delta about my late essay about the Mycenaean culture. Apparently, the essay in question is worth a lot of my overall grade and turning it in late will mean a deduction on my grade.

Sweet.

Rushing to my locker to grab my math book after talking to Mrs. Delta, I've just turned around when I feel a body hit my shoulder and knock my books to the ground.

"Watch it, stupid!" hisses Irina, Tanya's right-hand friend.

I narrow my eyes at her, but I don't have time to argue as I'm almost late for class as it is. I bend down and reach for my things as I see two hands shoot out and grab my book from the floor. Two tan hands.

I look up to see Riley McGinty, in all of his beautiful glory, holding my math book.

Holy. Crap.

He grins at me. "Here you go," he offers shyly, handing me the book.

Like a complete idiot, I just stare in complete shock, which I'm sure is written clearly across my face. What Alice and Jasper mentioned this morning comes back to me, and I can't help but wonder if it is true. Perhaps he does like me somewhat, and is trying to be nice to me so that I will give him an opening to ask me to the dance.

Not realizing I still haven't said anything, Riley's grin drops in uncertainty.

Mentally slamming my head against a wall, I quickly recover and smile back at him, taking the book from his hands.

"Thank you," I say, suddenly finding my palms sweaty.

His eyes sparkle and his grin returns. "You're welcome. So, what's with Irina Denali knocking you down?"

I shrug a shoulder, "I guess she's always been that way. Ever since she joined ranks with my sister," I answer, walking towards my class.

He follows me. "Your sister got something against you?" he asks, seeming genuinely curious.

I shake my head. "I honestly don't know. It started with whose Barbie is better to who has the biggest breasts. It's a lot of petty things, really," I answer, realizing I just said the word 'breasts' to him. Brilliant.

He chuckles and scratches his jaw, "You're right. That does sound petty. If it's honestly something bad between you two, I bet it's just more than who has the best curves."

Did I imagine him checking me out?

We reach the outside of my classroom when I turn around, "Why are you taking such an interest all of a sudden?" Not realizing this question could have a double meaning.

He shrugs both of his shoulders, "Why not?" Before I could answer, he grins at me once again and turns to leave. "See you later, Swan," he calls over his shoulder.

I stand in front of class for a few more awkward seconds before I go in the room.

I barely make it into my seat before I hear the bell ring. I sit in a haze throughout most of class, which isn't really a surprise, given the subject, but I digress. I keep replaying the past conversation in my head. Why in the world was he taking such an interest? I mean, honestly, he just listened to me vent about my sister, and then gave me advice. What was his angle? Did he think that I was some kind of challenge? A notch that could be carved on his bedpost?

I shake my head. I don't really think these things. In all honesty, he didn't seem like he had any bad intentions. He seemed really helpful, actually. Like he cared.

It was a nice feeling.

I'm probably grinning like an idiot, but who wouldn't? I don't realize that class is almost over when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I turn around to see Irina Denali, the same selfish cow who pushed my stuff down, staring at me while she masticates a piece of gum. "What did Riley McGinty have to say to you?" she asks, practically spitting out the word 'you'.

I narrow my eyes. "It's none of your business," I reply, quelling the urge to stick out my tongue like a school girl.

She rolls her eyes, "It is so my business. I'm a part of the social order around here, and when I see someone mixing with another who is clearly out of their league, I have to intervene."

She can't seriously think that I'm intimidated by that.

"It's nothing, he was just being friendly," I scoff, "Not like you would have any idea what being friendly means." I turn back around and huff angrily.

I feel her come closer and hear her breath in my ear. "You better hope it's nothing. I would hate to see something bad happen to you if it escalates above being friendly," she whispers venomously to me.

I glare at her just as the bell rings. I begin to collect my things when a bag smashes into my head. A soft "ow" escapes my lips before I even think to hold it in. I look up in time to see Irina sashay out of the room, heavy backpack in tow.

I rub the tender spot in my head before throwing my shit in a bag and stomping out the door. I am in a bad mood all the way into lunch, and by the way Jasper regards my pissed off appearance, he knows to leave me well enough alone.

Alice, however, doesn't have this God-given gift.

"What's wrong with you?" she asks, setting her lunch down and sitting beside me.

"Nothing," I murmur, stabbing my salad with a fork.

"Obviously it's not 'nothing'. I can always tell these things with you. Did something happen today? Was it Tanya? You know she's just jealous of you," she says, beginning her rant.

"Alice—"

"I just don't understand what the heck is wrong with her. Like you haven't gone through enough! Like you need something else to worry about, what with the dreams, and then the whole freshman year. Why can't she just leave you alone?" she questions, not listening to me.

"Ali—"

"Something must have happened to her, something awful. Do you know of anything? Maybe I should do some digging, ask around. See what people know. Jasper, would you help me with it? Of course you would. Now, we just need to—"

This time, I cut her off, "ALICE!" I shout.

She and Jasper give me twin stares, but one is out of shock and the other is out of wry amusement.

I take a deep breath so I don't say something rash. "I thank you for your concern, but I really don't need to hear about this right now, okay? Nothing big happened between Tanya and me. It was just one of her cronies who harassed me a little. That's it." I explain, giving her a look which meant to not push it further.

She got the hint, and dropped the conversation, only to pick up another, more terrifying subject.

"So, I heard you talked to Riley McGinty in the hallway. Care to share?" she asks, her eyes getting a wicked glint. I almost want her to go back to ranting about Tanya.

Jasper chuckles as he rises from his seat. "And that's my cue to leave. See you later, babe," he bends down to kiss her forehead. "Bella?" I look up. "Good luck."

I shoot him a withering glare before he high-tails it out of there, much like I want to do. I can practically smell the smoke as he runs away.

Coward.

"So, anyway, tell me everything!" Alice sings, clapping her hands excitedly.

I laugh at her. "There isn't much. He picked up my math book, and then he walked me to class. It's pretty cut and dry," I retort, picking at what's left of my mangled salad.

She is not convinced, "There has got to be more than that, come on! I'm your best friend, I won't tell anyone. Except maybe Jasper," she giggles.

"Honestly, all we talked about was how much of a bitch my sister is. Nothing new there," I reply, not giving her an inch. Somehow, my conversation between Riley and I seems private, secret. I may sound selfish in this instance, but I want to keep this to myself, if only a little bit longer.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. It was a fluke and I mean nothing to him, or he to me. End of story," I finish, grabbing my salad with Alice hot on my trail.

"I'll let it drop, for now. But you should know, during the entire lunch period, Riley hasn't taken his eyes off of you," she adds slyly, dumping her tray and walking into the hall.

I whip my head around, just in time to see Riley duck his head and talk to one of his friends. He's a little too late, as I have caught him staring. It sends heat rushing to my face, but I brush it off and follow Alice to gym class.

Today's riveting game will be dodge ball. A game where the strong athletes get the chance to pummel the weak, and if you get an injury, it's hilarious.

Super.

Although I do have an ally with me in class, Tanya also shares this class with me, and she is a lot stronger than I am. I have just managed to dodge a ball at my feet when I feel a smack on my face.

I look over to see Tanya jumping up and down with victory while her idiots surround her and high five her. Alice, bless her, comes rushing to my aid.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" she asks, never mind that she gets hit as soon as she looks away.

"Just peachy, Ali," I hiss, rubbing the sore spot on my cheek. I shoot daggers at Tanya, to no avail. She isn't even paying attention to me as she continues to hurl rubber balls at other people, although I note she isn't trying to hit any of them in the face.

Deciding to quit while I'm ahead, I sit on the sidelines with Alice at my side, watching the game. As Alice starts to plot how we could retaliate against Tanya, my eyes casually take in everyone participating. It seems that everyone is into the game, some getting even more intense than Tanya, but it's mostly just the competitive boys. There is one boy, I notice, that looks bored and doesn't participate at all. Edward Cullen stands behind his team, barely even seeming to pay attention. He never throws anything, but he'll catch the occasional ball that is loped his way. Mostly, it seems that everyone stays clear of him.

Curiosity makes me take a longer look at him. He transferred here at the beginning of freshman year, and when he arrived, every girl fell in love with him. Fell in love with the way his copper hair was a complete mess. Fell in love with the way his dark eyes seemed to slice right into your body. I'll admit, I was a part of the sighing fan-girl club that seemed to follow him everywhere he went, but I changed my mind when he appeared cold and uninterested. There was something in the way he looked at me, something predatory that makes me uncomfortable. He looks at me like I am something to eat, and it leaves me with a very unsettling feeling.

His fair skin seems to glow under the lights in the gym, and his long, lithe body is slouched in a nonchalant way. A green ball that comes sailing towards him at full speed is about to hit his head. At the last possible moment, he reaches out and catches the ball in his hands. Rolling the ball away, he slouches back down and continues to look unaffected.

"So when are we going to go costume shopping?" Alice questions.

My eyes snap to her, and I realize she has been talking to me this entire time without me paying one ounce of attention to her.

Quashing the feeling of guilt, I return my full attention to her, "Uh, I don't know. Friday evening?"

She nods her consent, and Coach Deacon blows the whistle, telling us to go change before school ends.

Alice and I talk about ideas of who we want to be for Halloween. And while we debate the merits of a pirate and a cat, I hear Tanya on the other side of the door.

"I can't get my mind off of him. So sexy!" she giggles.

I hear another soft voice reply, "Isn't he into your sister? He stares at her all the time."

I hear her scoff before saying, "There is no way that's true. She's a freak of nature and everyone knows it. And I'm her older sister, therefore she's no competition."

Alice looks over at me worriedly, and while I roll my eyes and shake my head for her benefit, I can't help but feel dejected. I know I shouldn't feel this way, for as long as I can remember, we've never agreed on anything. But it seems as if lately, she's been taking more and more digs at me than ever before. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve her anger, and a big part of me wishes I ask her what's wrong so that I might fix it. But then, my stubbornness and pride kick in saying that if she wants this crap to end, she can come to me. And knowing my sister, that has about as much chance of happening as me pooping fairy dust. This feud will never end.

We walk in silently, ignoring the scathing looks that Tanya and Kara Angelou, another one of her followers, shoot me. We quickly change into our normal day clothes, and since I don't have the stomach to stay in the school for a second longer, I wave good-bye to Alice as I walk out of the locker room.

A wave of cold air slaps me in the face as I walk to the Lexus, waiting for Tanya. Her words from earlier roll around in my head like a ball of lead, and I've almost made the decision to walk home when a shadow covers me from the sun.

I look up and find, to my complete and utter astonishment, Edward Cullen standing over me.

My mouth must be open in blatant surprise, as he cocks his head to the right and smiles at me in amusement with a wicked, playful glint in his eyes. We stood there for what felt like forever, although it couldn't have been more than a minute, when his voice broke the silence with a question.

"Would you like a ride?"


	3. The Breakdown

**A/N: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, situations, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**The Breakdown**

I stare open-mouthed at him, "What?"

_My wit knows no bounds today…_

His eyes dance in amusement, "Would you…like…a ride?" He asks, pausing between words as if I am too slow to understand.

My eyes narrow in confusion, "With you?"

"Obviously."

I shake my head, still not really understanding, "Why?"

"Are you telling me you don't need a ride?" he counters.

I frown. "No, I mean, why are you offering?" I cross my arms to shield myself from him. _What the heck is he doing?_

His mouth twists in a grin, "Oh I could never resist a damsel in distress," he replies, a sarcastic undertone in every word.

I narrow my eyes at him, not appreciating the sarcasm. "Well since I am neither a damsel or in distress, I don't think I'll need a ride home with you, thank you very much," I say rather unkindly.

_Since when does he offer rides?_

Thinking that was the end of the conversation, I turn around and start walking towards the street. I've only taken about three steps when I hear him follow me.

"You really expect me to believe that you are going to walk all the way home?" he asks, disbelief coloring his tone.

I square my shoulders. "Yes, I do. It's not that far of a walk and I can make it home by myself. _Without_ an escort," I look at him pointedly.

He swings around to stop me in my tracks, a half-smile on his face, "How defensive you are. Is this your feminine way of saying 'no' when you really mean 'yes'?"

"No, this is my non-gender specific way of saying 'no' when I mean 'no'. Please let me by," I plead, moving to walk around him.

He counters my step, and stays in front of me. "Why are you so determined to do this by yourself? I could help you, you know," he murmurs, his voice dropping ever so slightly.

Without any reason, blood rushes through me quickly and I feel my face heat. "Why are you being so pushy about this? It's not like you've been jumping at the chance to do this before. Didn't your mother ever teach you that no means no?" I argue, reigning in the desire to stomp my foot like a child.

He chuckles then, and I take time to really look at him. He still ties my stomach in knots- not all of them in a bad way- and the way he runs his hands through his hair makes _me_ want to run my hands through it. There's no doubt that I still find him attractive, but the way he looks at me still makes me uncomfortable. His dark eyes coolly take in my form and I feel like I'm under scrutiny. As if he is a starving man and I am a cut of prime meat.

"Not really, no," he continues to laugh lightly, likely sharing a private joke with himself.

_This guy is disturbed._

"Well, allow me to enlighten you. I don't need a ride home and I don't need an escort. Goodbye," I say with an air of finality.

I prepare myself to stomp away in a classically dramatic way when I feel myself being yo-yoed back in front of Edward.

"Hey!" I screech, trying to slap his hands away from my backpack. Sensing that I was about to strike, he snatches his hand back to himself and takes a slight step backward.

"My apologies," he responds, and I can't help but notice the slight angle of his body towards mine, as if he is preparing to bow.

Before I can retaliate, Tanya sees us and approaches.

"What the hell is going on?" she squawks, storming over to us.

I narrow my eyes at Edward and answer, "Nothing. Edward was just leaving."

I don't like the way his eyes lock onto mine with a sarcastic brow raised, but Tanya ignores me when she gets a good look at who I've been talking to. Her eyes light up and she subtly situates her shirt collar lower before she speaks.

_Maybe not-so subtly then…_

"Hey Edward! Sorry if Bella was being rude. She's like that all the time, just ignore it. Bella, get in the car," she says, batting her eyelashes at him when he glances over at her and smiles politely.

"My dear Miss Tanya, lovely to see you," he said with a smile, but I think I hear a note of sarcasm beneath his words.

I roll my eyes at her giggle and march over to the car and sit impatiently in the seat. I mutter curses to the both of them under my breath the whole trip to the car and start to mess with the frayed ends of my sweater sleeve.

I may imagine this, but he looks over and winks at me like he knows what I was saying.

_Weirdo._

A few minutes later, Tanya opens the driver's side door and climbs in. With a satisfied smirk on her face, she speeds out of the parking lot and heads home.

I continue to pick at my sleeve, still a bit perturbed about my conversation with Edward. What a strange, attractive boy. What a _strangely attractive _boy. And to call him a boy feels wrong. He doesn't act like any of the guys in this town, but he certainly isn't old enough to be called a man. But, there's something in his eyes that seem ancient, old. His deep, dark…

_Wait, what color are his eyes?_

I scrunch my forehead in thought, surely not forgetting such a detail. It is something I usually first notice about a boy…man…guy, especially if that guy is as attractive as Edward Cullen. However, the harder I concentrate, the harder it is for me to remember.

_Huh, weird_.

Shaking it off, I snap out of whatever zone I'm in to see we are pulled in the driveway and Tanya is halfway to the house. I quickly unbuckle my seatbelt and run up the driveway towards the door. Quietly taking off my shoes, I try to tip-toe up the stairs before I'm caught by—

"Bella?" a soft voice slurs.

Sighing, I drop my backpack to the floor and walk into the family room, finding her lying face-down on the couch.

She stirs as she hears my footsteps, and the random bottles that clink together as I pick them off the coffee table. Her dark hair is splayed across the side of her face and her clothes appear rumpled. It looks like she slept here, again, this time keeping the glass that's half-full of watered down scotch upright in her hand. I gently pull on the glass until she lets go and safely put it on the table behind me. I kneel down and pull her hair from her face, noting with absolute disgust that there are traces of vomit in it.

"Hi Mom," I say, without any sort of affection in my voice.

She blinks open her eyes and a drunken grin plays across her features.

"Hi baby. Didja have a good day a'school?" she speaks, although the alcohol in her words comes out so much I have to mentally translate what she's saying.

"It was fine," I answer curtly, my mind flashing to overhearing Tanya and my encounter with Edward.

_I guess 'fine' is a strong word to use…_

She giggles and tries to sit up before laying back down again on her other side. I sigh deeply before helping her into a sitting position as she continues.

"Ya know, I was jus' thinking the other day how beautiful you are," she says, her eyes closing but her mouth still in a grin.

"Thanks, Mom, but tell me that when you're sober, okay?" I reason. I attempt to pick her up to take her to the bedroom. Jane has a ballet class, and since Carmen is getting groceries, and Tanya would rather die than help anyone, nobody else is here to take her upstairs. And I'll be damned if Jane _ever_ finds out how her own mother acts.

I struggle under her dead weight, but she sloppily gets up and walks with me. "But then I wasthinking, about how much I looked like you at your age. Beautiful…thin…_young_!" she shouts out the last word, flinging her left arm out to her side as if to demonstrate her lost youth.

"Now lookame. Wasting away in this museum," she laments, walking up the stairs with me now, "With a husband who doesn' care, and three ungrateful, spoiled, _brats_ as chil'ren,"

My eyes squeeze tight at her scathing tone. Only a matter of time now, before she pulls out the big guns.

I finally get her onto her bed and am about to leave when she grabs my wrist. "And you're the wors' of the three. You ruined _everything_," she warbles, her grip tightening despite her lack of lucidity.

Tears escape, unbidden, from my eyes as she continues to rant and rave at me, "Mom, just go to sleep. Please. I know you don't mean it."

I look down at her face to see her chuckle darkly before turning on her other side and facing the opposite wall.

"_You_ don't mean anything to me," she mumbles, before I see her body relax into subconscious.

I nod dumbly, more out of defeat than actual response. I know what I mean to her.

Flicking off the light and shutting the door, I feel a kind of nauseas sea-sickness in me that always comes out whenever I have to clean up Mom. I'm not sure if I have any memory of her when she is 100% sober, even when I was very young. At first, I didn't think it was odd to see her drinking so much. I just thought that all Mommies drank the wobbly pop and that it helps you sleep at night. I thought it was a sort of game, as a child, when I would race home to see what pretty bottles Mommy saved for me on the coffee table. I would even play with some of those bottles…

Placing a mental brick wall against that particularly fun memory, I walk into my room and flop ungracefully onto the bed. I don't even bother to kick off my shoes as I lay face-down on my mattress. I don't realize I have been sleeping until Carmen knocks gently on my door to let me know that it's time to eat.

Squinting in the now-darkness of night, I glance over to my alarm clock and note that I've been asleep for about two hours. Wrestling out of my covers, I amble down the hallway and into the kitchen where Carmen has made homemade enchiladas with spicy pork and lettuce. Grabbing a plate of food, I sit at the table and eat in silence. I ask Carmen where the rest of the family (excluding my mother) is and she explains that our mother is 'sick again', Tanya is at a friend's house for dinner, and Jane was picked up by our father after he got off work and they were eating out somewhere. Noting that I am pitifully alone, Carmen dishes up a plate of her own and sits down with me at the table. I smile warmly at her before digging into my meal. She continues to question me about my day at school, so I decide to be merciful and give her a light, edited version of it.

"What are you going to be this year for Halloween, querida?" she asks, cleaning up our plates off the table.

"I'm not sure, yet. Probably a witch or something," I answer with disinterest, scraping my nail against the grain in the table.

"And who are you going with to the dance? A boy?" she continues, wiping her worn hands on the towel at her side.

My face flushes as I immediately think of Riley. And then darkens in shame when I think of Edward.

_Get a grip, schizo._

She laughs lightly. "I take that as yes."

I roll my eyes good naturedly and help clear the table.

It isn't until after we've eaten, and Carmen says goodnight promptly at nine o'clock, that my dad and Jane come through the front door. Well, Jane comes in quietly and discards her ballet shoes, my father decides she isn't moving fast enough and he walks around her and sits down on the couch, phone glued to his head.

"Well tell Sanders that there is no burden of proof! The production burden is null and void since he couldn't prove enough for a checker to provide an alibi where he was on that night!" he orders, pulling at the tie that seems to forever choke his neck.

Jane comes over to where I'm working on homework at the table and sits in my lap. I whisk her hair aside as I ask about her day.

"Did you have a good time with Dad?" I question, one hand in her hair, my other on the late history paper for Mrs. Delta in front of me.

She shrugs her shoulders slightly, looking down at her tutu and picking at the ends. This gives me reason to pause and I stop working on the paper to give her my full attention. I turn her attention to me and make her look me in the eye, "What happened?"

She frowns and a small pucker appears on her forehead. "Daddy just got busy. He kept telling me that we were gonna go get something to eat when he was done working. He promised," her frown deepens and I can see unshed tears in her little blue eyes.

Anger flashes in my blood before I quickly tamp it down and start to make something for her to eat, seeing as how my _dad_ is too busy to bother keeping her fed. Quickly putting together a grilled cheese sandwich with some carrots, I hand her a glass of milk before marching over to the hard-working form of Charles Swan.

Nothing about this man's appearance would cause anyone to look twice. He might not even be a blip on anybody's radar. His light-brown cropped hair is kept neat and trim at all times. He has a pleasant enough face with a surprisingly trim physique for a man approaching fifty, who is never seen without a suit and tie. The only distinct feature on him that would give anyone pause is the cold, calculating look in his blue eyes. Those eyes cut right into you and dismiss you just as easily. I suppose that's what makes him such a great lawyer. Even now, I have trouble standing my ground when he turns those eyes on me.

But I know better. And right now? I'm furious enough to melt the ice in his stare.

"Well did she give a statement on it to the police?" he asks, fiddling with his tie again.

I glare at him and stay standing in front of him until he acknowledges me. No other emotion betrays me on my face, or in the casual stance of my body. This is the only way to approach him. If he thinks I am reacting with emotions, not logic, he'll shut down and dismiss anything I say as teenage hormones going nuts.

_He hasn't _seen _crazy yet._

He raises both of his eyebrows as if to question my sanity, but I think he notes the rage behind my eyes, and quickly ends his call.

"Alec, I have to go. Call me in the morning if anything changes," he dismisses, meticulously hanging up his phone and placing it on the armrest.

He laces his hands in front of him and sets them gently on his lap, his eyes never leaving mine. He nods his head to me in his distinct way of saying 'proceed'.

I hate that he does that. Gives me stupid head nods and eyebrow raises, like I'm being put on stand.

My passive countenance doesn't falter as I speak, "Bad day today?"

His eyes narrow in calculation, most likely wondering why I'm making idle chit chat. He purses his lips before answering, "As a matter of fact, yes. The man from New Orleans, who is being tried for murder, is trying to weasel his way into a false alibi with a new witness. She, apparently, was with him for most of the night the murder occurred. Of course, nobody has heard from her until now and the whole thing—" I cut him off quickly, since I'm in no mood to humor him.

"I'm sorry," I interject in a monotone, clearly not meaning it.

He is affronted by my interruption and narrows his eyes in displeasure.

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm only wondering, because I'm trying to figure out how you worked _so hard_ all night with an 8-year-old in your care at the same time. You must be the best father in the world," I mutter sarcastically, my right thumb running over my fingers in a habit he realizes means agitation.

His eyes widen in understanding and looks past my shoulder to see Jane munching on a carrot and swinging her legs playfully under her. He frowns at me, but I can see in the way he holds his shoulders that he is regretful.

"Bella, I'm truly sorry. I just got so caught up with this new development in the case that I completely forgot. However, I beg you to understand that—"

My cool demeanor snaps at that, "Understand?! Of course I understand, _father_," I spit out the word 'father' venomously.

"I understand that you are a very busy man, too busy in fact to pay attention to his own family. To the fact that your family is being torn apart at the seams, but I suppose we aren't important enough to register on your radar!" I scream, stomping over to him and getting right in his face.

He sits in silence for a moment, before talking to Jane, "Jane, could you please finish your dinner in your room? Then you need to get to bed, as you are up far later than you should," he commands, eyes never leaving mine.

Outrage fills me as Jane happily, and obliviously, leaves the kitchen with her plate in her hand. I don't like the way he phrased that last sentence, as if somehow _she_ was to blame for him overworking…again.

He stands up to his full height and looks down his nose at me, cold eyes flaring with anger, "You do _not_ talk to me like that, Bella. Not ever. I pay attention to my family quite adequately," he speaks, his voice never rising above his normal indoor voice. But I can hear the dangerous temper beneath his tone. He is furious.

Good.

I am so heated by this point, I wouldn't be surprised if there is a fire in my eyes and if I breathed smoke. I feel like a terrible fire-breathing dragon trying to protect my little egg.

"You think you pay attention? You don't know anything!" I reply hotly. Before he has a chance to reply, I surge ahead, "Do you know that Tanya is messing around with our chemistry teacher just so she can pass senior year? Do you know that Jane has a ballet recital for _Swan Lake_ in a month? Or that your own wife is upstairs, asleep, after drinking herself into a coma?! You know _nothing_ about this family! You're just as worthless to all of us as that pathetic excuse for a woman you married!" I yell, all my anger over the day, boiling over in hot waves.

I feel the stinging _SLAP_ to my face before I understand what happened. A warming sensation begins to take place on my left cheek and bottom lip where the back of his hand had hit me.

His eyes burn into my own, right hand still raised as if he isn't through slapping me. A little trickle of liquid falls from my lip and on impulse, my tongue reaches out. The unmistakable taste of blood hits my tongue.

I look up at him completely dumbfounded. He has never hit me in my entire life. This is the first time his cool demeanor has cracked, his true nature shining through.

His eyes lose its fire, and he quickly looks me up and down with the same passive look he always gives me.

"Go to your room," he dismisses, and just like that, he goes down the hall to his office and locks himself in there.

I don't even realize tears have been shed until I am in my bathroom getting ready for bed. As a matter of fact, I am full-out sobbing and don't even know it. Flashing memories that I have tried painfully hard to repress are resurfacing, instigated by my father's hand.

My eyes squeeze tightly as I feel another slap to my face. Only this time, _he_ is slapping me, trying to get me to be quiet.

"_Just be still, precious girl, and it will all be over soon," he threatened, knife pressing deeper into my throat._

I fall to my knees at the memory of his voice. My arms wrap around myself and I rock back and forth, like the psycho I am.

_Nononononono._ _Don't break down. Just breathe. Breathe!_

That feeling of helplessness surrounds me as I continue to rock back and forth, of not knowing what's wrong with my body as the flashbacks continue. I close my eyes childishly to block out the pain, but it doesn't work. I can still feel his skin on mine, his teeth, the knife pressing into me. I think I might have cried out for help, but I can't be sure. It doesn't matter. Nobody can hear me. Nobody will save me. They didn't save me then, they're not going to save me now.

A flood of more memories break easily through the barrier that I have built for my own protection. It crumbles like ash all around me as I remember his words.

"_Only _I _can have you, understand?! _No one _will want you after I'm through with you. You're mine!" he whispers menacingly, teeth biting deeper into my lip. I cry out as I taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue._

I feel my dinner leave my stomach, but I have no will to fight it. My memories have pulled me under.

"_And I'm going to make sure you _never _forget it," he says, the tip of the knife pressing into my side deeper._

I cry out at the memories, the pain from the knife still so fresh in my memory. I clutch my side in remembrance, reliving the onslaught of blood that poured from the wound that I thought would never stop bleeding.

My heaving sobs are wracking my body, and I begin to feel light-headed. The room spins around me uncontrollably as I hold myself tighter. My vision grows darker and darker, but before I completely succumb to the darkness, his whispered promise rings in my ear.

"_Mine."_

"Is there anything else you want to talk about this session, Bella?" she asks, pen poised on her notebook to take notes.

I lean back rebelliously in my chair, my eyes facing the ceiling. She must take my silence as provocation as she continues, "Do you want to tell me what happened last night?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I had a breakdown. No news there," I say as nonchalantly as possible. Or at least, I try for that. I'm not sure if Dr. Platt can hear it, but my voice shakes and quivers.

She does. "How long did it last?" she asks softly, trying to tip-toe around my feelings.

I hate it when she does that. I'm not a china doll. I sit up straight in my chair and condescendingly put my finger on my chin.

"Well, let me think. I went up to my room at about nine-thirty, and I woke up in my bathroom at about four in the morning. So I'm going to say roughly eight hours this time," I answer, as snarky as I can.

Not at all flustered by my reply, she quickly ambles on, "Do you remember it all?"

I sigh and flop back into my chair. "Yes." I always do.

I hear her scribble down something before she responds, "Can you tell me about it?"

My eyes squeeze painfully. I know that all she is trying to do is help me, and I completely and totally understand. But another part of me wants her to just give me some pills and let me be on my way.

"It was towards the end, right whenever he's got the knife on me," I murmur, rubbing reflexively on my side where I can feel the scars.

"Did you try my breathing exercises?" she asks, her pen scratching the paper.

"I tried, but in the end, it was too powerful for me. I succumbed to it," I admit, defeated. Shame colors my features and I lean forward to put my head in my hands.

"That is nothing to be ashamed of, Bella. The healing process takes time, and even then, the marks of those who hurt us are still visible," she reasons.

My fingers rub again on my side, and also, my tongue reaches out to touch the scabbed over wound on my lip.

She pauses for a moment, and I look up in the silence at her. Her eyes are furrowed in concern, and she absentmindedly gnaws on her lower lip. A few escaped tendrils of dark red hair fall from her chignon, and her smart blue suit is pressed to perfection. She is, admittedly, one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She looks no older than thirty, although she could be much older. She wears no ring, so I don't know if she is married or even straight.

"What happened to your lip?" she questions.

I lick it again as a reflex before answering.

"I must have cut it when I blacked out," I lie, looking away from her. I know she knows it's a lie, my lack of eye contact and conviction is a dead giveaway. But she chooses to let it by and sits back in her chair, scribbling more notes on her paper.

_What I wouldn't give to see that thing…_

"Is there anything else going on in your life you want to talk about?" she asks, although there's a hint of anxiousness in her tone.

I squint my eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs in nonchalance. "Anything: school, your friends," she muses, leaning back into her chair.

I sigh with trepidation. I don't know how she knows, but I am barely think before confessing about the dance coming up, complete with detail about Alice's crazy costume ideas and, of course, Riley McGinty.

"Why can't you go with him to this dance? It sounds like he likes you," she reasons, her head cocking to one side.

I roll my eyes at her. Yet another person telling me to go for him, when he is clearly out of my league. I tell her as much when she responds.

"Bella, I know every teenage girl goes through these tough years of thinking they are never good enough. But you are such a brave and special girl, any guy would be lucky to have you. Just the fact that you are trusting around males at all is a huge step in itself," she soothes.

I shake my head at her. "It's not like I wouldn't mind going with him. But it all seems a little _too_ good to be true. He's never really paid me any mind, and now all of a sudden, he talks to me in the hallway and there are rumors of him asking me to the Halloween dance? It just seems very…suspicious," I answer, voicing an opinion I hadn't even admitted to myself until now.

"Not everybody is out to get you, Bella. There are genuine people in this world. You just have to let them get to know you," she answers kindly, a soft smile gracing her face.

I scoff and lean my head back against the chair again.

"Well, is there anybody else who you would go with?" she inquires, gazing back down at her notebook paper.

My mind irrationally flashes to Edward.

She cocks an eyebrow at my hesitancy and grins. "Is there someone else?" she asks knowingly.

I roll my eyes at my own brain for even thinking about him. I warn my subconscious that he is a freak and totally creeps me out.

_But he's hot though…_

_That doesn't mean anything! _

"Bella?"

I look up to realize I still haven't answered her, while I've been talking to myself.

"There's this guy in my class," I begin, unsure how to explain a person like Edward Cullen to her.

She nods her head for me to continue. "He's gorgeous, of course, but he just seems…odd. Out of place. Like he doesn't belong in high school, or even in this century," I end dubiously.

"What do you mean by that?" she asks while scratching down more notes.

_Honestly, how many notes can you take?_

"He acts like a total weirdo one minute, and the next, he's practically bowing over himself to apologize to me. Literally bowing," I mumble, still irritated by our last encounter.

She chuckles amusedly at my ranting. "What's his name?"

"Edward Cullen."

She freezes instantly in her writing and looks up at me with wide eyes. "Edward Cullen?"

My eyes narrow in surprise. "Yes. Do you know him?"

As the fates would have it, the timer on her desk buzzes the end of another session. The alarm seems to snap her out of whatever daze her mind went to as she walks over to it to turn it off. When she turns back around, she smiles brightly at me.

"Time's up! Very good session today, Bella," she chirps.

I'm still in utter confusion and am about to press her when her receptionist pops her head into the office to let Dr. Platt know that her next appointment is here.

"Just try not to overthink the dance thing, Bella. If it's something you want, go for it," she adds sagely, practically shoving me out of the office.

She closes the door behind her and I'm left bereft and a little affronted. She seemed very strange after I mentioned Edward's name. Does she know him from somewhere? I shake my head and hear my phone jingle the arrival of a text message from Alice.

*_We r out front. Cnt wait 2 shop 2day!*_

I shake my head. So hyper, even in a text.

I text her back to let her know I was coming. When I reach for the door, a glint of light from metal crosses my eyes, making me squint. I look over to see a black motorcycle pull up in a handicapped parking space in front of the building, although there doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with the driver.

Rolling my eyes at the driver's stupidity, I walk towards Jasper's car where he waves casually at me. I hop into the backseat while Alice greets me and immediately starts bombarding me with costume shopping plans.

"I figured we'd start with the strip mall first, since it's such a nice day. Then, if we haven't found anything, we can go to the Chinese restaurant afterwards for some much needed food. Then, we can hit the little store on West 2nd street," she plans, not even looking to me for confirmation on any of these plans. I know Alice, and it's easier to just go along with whatever she's concocted. There's less bloodshed that way.

"Sounds good, Ali," I acquiesce, only half-paying attention. Jasper smirks knowingly at me from the rearview mirror, and I cock my eyebrow at him in retaliation as if to say '_She's _your_ girlfriend'_.

He chuckles and backs out of his parking spot. Just before we drive away, Jasper points out, "Hey, doesn't he go to our school?"

Both Alice and I turn to see who he's talking about, and I can't help the startled gasp that escapes my throat.

Edward Cullen, the driver of the motorcycle, leans casually against his bike, looking in our direction. When he sees that I notice him, he grins salaciously and gives me a mocking salute with his fingers. Before I have a chance to acknowledge him, he gets off his bike and heads into the building.

**O_O whuuuuut? **

**Call me cliché, but there's something about the bad boy on the bike that's just…wow.**


	4. The Boy

**A/N: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, situations, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**The Boy**

"You're going to chew through the entire length of your thumb if you keep doing that," Jasper murmurs quietly while Alice goes back, _again_, to look for another costume. We've been sitting in this _damn_ shop for over a _damn_ hour because Alice can't make up her _damn _mind. I've seen her as an Eskimo, a military brat, a vampire and an Indian. By this point, I would usually want to get up and throttle her, but my mind is focused elsewhere. Specifically, on Edward, which makes me the most pathetic person alive.

I look up at him and realize I have my teeth tearing into the skin around the nail at my thumb. Realizing how dumb I look doing this, I immediately stop and give him a small smile.

"Everything okay?" he asks, sitting down next to me and fiddling with the belt on his jeans.

I sigh and don't answer, because I'm not even sure I have one. Ever since we left the office, I've been overIrinalyzing every possibility about why Edward would be there. Is he stalking me? Is he meeting someone there? Does _he_ have some sort of mental instability?

My money is on option number three.

And then there is the whole bit during my session when Dr. Platt freaked out on me when I mentioned his name. Does she know him from somewhere? An ex-patient? A current patient?

"Hello! Earth to Bella, come in Bella!" Jasper waves his hand in front of my face.

_Did I space again?_

I laugh at my own short attention span and give him a look of reassurance. "Yeah, I'm here."

He quirks an eyebrow in question, not even really needing to say the words.

I give him an innocent look until I huff in exasperation. "Well what was he doing there?!" I ask, frantically throwing my hands around.

He shrugs and looks towards the changing room again.

"He probably has a problem he needs working out, Bells. He's just human," he retorts quietly, and before I have a chance to call bullshit on that, Alice emerges wearing a peacock outfit.

"What do you think?" she asks, twirling around in annoyingly cheerful circles.

"You look fabulous," I automatically reply.

"You're not even looking!" she stomps and I realize I'm looking at the floor in concentration. I snap my head up and put a sheepish smile on my face.

"Sorry, you do look great, though. Right, Jasper?" I divert, feeling bad about not giving her my full attention.

He simply nods and smiles at her, not saying a word. He doesn't have to, though. The way he looks at her, and her elated grin in return, is enough to flip my stomach. I look off to the side at some little kids' costumes, trying to distract myself as much as possible.

_Is that a genie costume for little girls? It looks like a stripper outfit! _

"Great! I'll get it then!" she says, flitting back to the dressing room.

I hear Jasper chuckle and turn around to see him shaking his head.

"You have got it _so bad_," I tease, nudging him playfully with my shoulder. He shrugs his shoulder and goes back to messing with his belt.

"I love her, in all her craziness. But don't think that will distract me from what we were talking about," he returns, with a pointed look at me.

_Damn_.

I roll my eyes in annoyance. "I know it's obsessive, but you didn't hear this guy. He was all about giving me a ride home, then he called me helpless, then he almost bowed over himself to apologize. Then, Dr. Platt almost shit herself when I mentioned him, then he just happens to turn up at the place where I go to the crazy doctor?"

"It sounds like you've overthinking this. A lot. Just relax. Just because a guy wants to give you a ride home, doesn't mean he has ill intentions," he reasons.

"Do you think he knows?" I whisper, my eyes widening at the thought. I feel my stomach tighten and I think I may be sick.

He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "There's no way he could possibly know. People in your family don't even know the whole story, Bells," he reasons, patting me reassuring.

I smile slightly at him, although I don't feel better. Something about him being at that doctor's office doesn't feel right.

"Besides, don't you think Dr. Platt has the decency to respect doctor-patient confidentiality?" he points out, lips pulling up into a small smile.

I huff and cross my arms, not having anything to combat that with. He smiles in victory when I see Alice come toward us.

"What are you two talking about?" she inquires.

"Nothing," I say too quickly, followed by Jasper who laughs. I shoot him a glare and stick my tongue out in defiance.

_Yeah, _that _will teach him. _

Alice looks back and forth between us before shrugging and cMcGintyng over to me.

"It's your turn, now!" she cries, clasping her hands together under her chin.

I groan from my seat, but she comes over and unceremoniously pulls me up and literally pushes me into the dressing rooms.

"Now, just wait there while I find you something super cute!" she squeals.

"Don't you think I should pick out my own shit?" I call, but she doesn't answer. I roll my eyes again, and sit rebelliously on the chair in the room. I notice that there is a full-length mirror in the tiny space, and I can't help but stare. My hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, but now it's fallen down some as the day has gone on. My plain, white, capped-sleeved shirt was a little rumpled and my worn jeans were still fraying at the hem. I sigh at my reflection, noting my tired countenance. My eyes look dull and lifeless, most likely due to what happened last night. I can't believe that I freaked out so epically. I must be the biggest freak if I can't control my emotions like that. Dr. Platt and I have done some good work. Why freak now?

Then again, I catch a glimpse of the cut on my lip, and I remember why I broke down so easily.

My eyes water and I rub at them, frustrated at how easily upset I'm getting. I'm about to storm out of the room when I get bombarded by costumes as they are flung on top of me.

"What the actual fuck?!" I cry, ducking my head against the onslaught.

"Watch your mouth, and try those on! I bet you'll find something good to wear for Riley," Alice answers.

I groan loud enough for Alice to hear, and decide to get the torture with over as quickly as possible. Picking up the first costume I see, I quickly put it on as fast as I can. Turning around to look in the mirror, I see that I'm wearing a blue playboy bunny costume, complete with ears and cufflinks. I turn around in horror to see that a bunny-tail rests innocently on my butt. The corset hugs my figure and although I'm not a voluptuous girl, I feel like I might pull a Janet Jackson in this thing if I so much as breath wrong.

Groaning, I shove the curtain separating the dressing room from the rest of the store away to berate Alice.

"Are you serious? You have got to be kidding me with this sh—" but I don't get to finish my sentence, because standing there with a Batman mask in his hands is Riley McGinty.

_Dear Jesus, if you could just open the ground and swallow me whole, I promise to take this vile costume with me to its depths._

_Okay, thanks._

But Jesus doesn't hear my prayer, and if he does, then he's the biggest asshole in the world because the ground doesn't magically open up. Instead, Riley turns to see who is making such a fuss and his eyes widen in shock.

"Bella?" he questions, his whole body turned to me now.

_Thanks a lot, Jesus._

"Hi, Riley," I giggle nervously, feeling my face heat in embarrassment.

His eyes remain wide and drop down to take in the rest of my attire, or lack thereof. I have never felt more naked in front of a guy, and of course it's Riley McGinty. I'm thinking that the gods of bad luck are just laughing their asses off right at this moment.

"Nice costume," he remarks with a raised eyebrow.

I can't really tell if he's being serious or sarcastic. From the look in his eyes, it's probably more the former. I internally squeal like a little girl while my hands nervously pick at the hem of the costume.

"Uh, thanks but I'm not wearing this," I sputter, gnawing on my lower lip furiously.

He shrugs a shoulder, "Too bad. It looks good on you." He smiles then, and I feel butterflies in my stomach.

I smile tentatively at him, and subtly try to pull the hem down further on my costume. The thing about that is that the more I try to cover my ass, the more my boobs show. It's a lose-lose situation.

"Thanks. Have you seen—" I start.

"I found something perfect!" she shrieks.

"Alice," I state, simultaneously calling her over here and finishing my sentence to Riley.

He chuckles a little. "You know, I think I saw her somewhere," he fakes contemplation and puts a finger to his chin in thought. He winks slyly at me while Alice charges at us, oblivious.

"It's not exactly a costume, but this mask would look divine with that white, Grecian-style dress you own and I think you would be a good goddess," she rants, waving a gold, Venetian mask in front of my face.

"Indeed," answers Riley behind her, his arms crossed in front of his chest in amusement.

Without even flinching, she turns around and smiles exuberantly at him.

"Don't you think the bunny thing is too much? It's a fabulous outfit, of course, but I think she should pull off something more…" she trails off, contemplating her next word.

"Elegant?" he tries.

She nods animatedly. "Yes. Elegant. I like it."

"Hi. I'm still here. The person you're talking about," I wave dramatically at the two of them.

"Well, I'm right, aren't I?" she asks rhetorically. I nod, seeming to agree with her. And knowing Alice, it's just better to bow out when you know you've lost.

A wicked glint caught in Alice's eyes and I was suddenly very terrified for my life.

"So Riley, I hear you're going to the Halloween dance," Alice starts, batting her eyes innocently at him.

Oh shit.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, I don't have a date yet, but yeah I thought I'd go," he starts nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hmm, that's interesting. Don't you think that's interesting, Bella?" Alice asks rhetorically, although if you didn't know her, you would have thought she was being serious.

"Alice…" I warn.

She ignores me and turns back towards Riley, "Well, I think it's interesting, because you don't have a date and neither does Bella. Weird, right? Anyway, I'm going to go find Jasper. You two should talk."

She scampers off to go find Jasper, but not before I feel heat flare on my face in embarrassment. I slap my hand to my forehead to so hard, it hurts a little. But nothing will hurt compared to what I'll do to that little—

I hear an amused laugh and look up with shame-filled eyes to see Riley laughing at Alice's retreating figure.

"She's not exactly subtle, is she?" he retorts.

I huff out a breath of air and roll my eyes in annoyance. "She's not a lot of things. My friend, for one, at this moment anyway,"

He shoves his hands in his pockets and wears a small grin. "She's not so bad," he muses.

I shake my head and drop my head towards my feet, digging the toe of my sneaker into the ground. I hear Riley clear his throat before he speaks.

"So are you going to the dance, too?" he asks, shifting from foot to foot.

I shrug and try to cover my upper torso subtly, although I'm dying for this conversation to end so I can go put some actual clothes on and maybe find a nice hole to hide in for the rest of my life.

"Well do you have a date?" he pries, and a nervous weight settles in my stomach.

"Um, no. Definitely not," I mutter, edging towards the changing rooms.

He cocks an eyebrow as though he has an obvious question that doesn't need to be asked.

"Well…would you like to go with me?" he finally gets out, making me halt in my quest to change.

I bite my lip and glance back towards the cash register, where Alice and Jasper are waiting for me. Alice looks like she's about to internally combust from excitement, holding on to Jasper's arm for the sake of keeping her still. Jasper, although a wry grin on his face, has a questioning look in his eyes.

"Bella?"

I look back to Riley, to which I now realize I haven't answered him yet.

"Oh! Right, sorry. Yes, I'll go with you," I answer, watching his smile light up his face.

"Excellent. I'll pick you up at your house at seven?" he asks, stashing the Batman mask away and heading towards the entrance.

Panic, the likes of which I haven't felt in a while, floods through me at the thought of him meeting my mom and dad.

And worse, having Tanya see him.

"No!" I shout quickly, aware of the curious glances some of the other patrons give me, probably wondering if my mental faculties are working. Riley looks confused and a little hurt at my sudden outburst and I talk quickly to ease him.

"I mean, I can just meet you there. My house is a total mess and I never really have guests over…" I lie, the words sounding false to my ears, but he buys it. Understanding graces his features and I'm struck again by how pretty his face is.

"Okay, then I'll meet you outside the school? The parking lot maybe?" he hedges, hands in his pockets.

I nod and he gives me a quick goodbye before darting out of the store. Blowing out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, I retreat quickly into the dressing room and all but rip off the offending costume. A small thrill runs through me that I am, in fact, going to a dance. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like a normal girl with normal problems. Like what to wear to this dance, because it sure as hell won't be this stupid thing.

_Stupid bunny costume._

After I stuff the costume back into the bag and hang it up, I scour the store to find Alice waving energetically at me at the entrance. I walk over to her when I notice a bag in her hands.

"Did you buy the mask?" I ask, walking with her and Jasper out the door towards the parking lot.

She nods her head and smiles, "I figured this could be an early birthday present from me. Well, part of it at least," she ends with a giggle.

"I could have paid for it," I mutter, a little sullen at the prospect of her buying me crap. It's not like I didn't have the money to pay for it. Then the full extent of what she said hit me.

"Wait, '_part_ of it'?" I groan, turning to Jasper for support. She just laughs and walks steadfastly on, not even bothered by my hesitancy.

He laughs lightly and pulls me under his comforting arm. "Don't worry. I talked her down from the original present," he whispers in my ear.

"Somehow, that's not comforting," I shoot back sarcastically.

My weekend is spent with me wondering between my date/dance with Riley, and whether or not Edward Cullen is just as crazy as I am. I ponder both options with my butt on the couch and a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby in my lap, as this is the best way to logically formulate a theory in both instances.

And I just love ice cream.

Spoonful by spoonful, I come up with more and more reasons or excuses as to why Riley decides to pay attention to me now, after almost two and a half years of me not even being a blip on his radar. Whatever his reasons, this will make it insanely more difficult for me to stay out of Tanya and her band of merry whores' line of fire. No doubt I will get burned for trying to climb the social ladder with the school's top basketball player.

I wonder how they'll punish me. Is there a protocol for girls going out with guys out of their stations? History and fiction would suggest that being locked in a stockade in a public square would be appropriate, or perhaps embroidering a red letter on all of my clothes. Either way, I know that as soon as those girls learn of my date, I'm as good as flogged.

Deciding that that train of thought is too unpleasant, I switch over to the Cullen problem. Not really a problem, more like a Rubik's cube, shoved into an algorithm and wrapped in a formula. There's no doubt in my mind that he is a little nutso, but then again, that's the pot calling the kettle black.

Running out of ideas, and ice cream, I push my thoughts into a box labeled "do not open before Armageddon" and stash it away into a dark corner of my mind.

Now that it's Monday, I feel a little better, if not a couple pounds heavier. I've come to the conclusion that definitely took way too long to come to. And I think it's something that women all around the world need to realize before it's too late: boys are weird and will never make sense.

Now, I am negotiating with my locker to open its door. In exchange, I have promised to never kick it ever again. Seeing as how we have had many battles over the months, I feel like this is a fair trade.

The tardy bell blasts through the hallway and I'm about to renege and kick the stupid door in when an ominous shadow blocks my light.

"You, stupid bitch," a feminine voice calls behind me. I whip my head around to see Irina Denali glaring daggers into my very soul.

"Um, excuse me?" I ask, incredulous. I have a distinct inkling of what this is about, and why I deserve the slur against my character, but I'll play dumb if it will buy me a few minutes of life.

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone. Nooooo now you have gone out and slept your way to the very top of the social hierarchy," she fumes, her nostrils flaring so hard that I think it will slit her nose into thirds.

While a part of me is mentally clapping at her use of a big word like hierarchy, I'm also starting to calculate my escape options.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply coolly, looking left and right in the now-deserted hallway. Of all the possible times for her to confront me, she picked the best time. The halls are empty, and all the doors are closed. Nobody is here to save my ass from this gum-smacker and I wonder if I can outrun this girl.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean," she retorts. "I'm talking about you and Riley McGinty going to the dance together this Friday. I told you to stay away from him. Was I not clear?"

"Perfectly. But he was the one that asked me, not I him. He approached _me_," I emphasize, pressing my back into the locker door.

She rolls her eyes and smiles derisively. "Please. Why would he ask you?"

The tone in her voice clearly indicates that she thinks I am delusional, which angers me to no end, but it also makes me very nervous. I can feel my heart pounding and my palms start to get slick with sweat.

_Breathe. Just breathe. She'll go away, she won't hurt you._

"He must have good taste. It must kill you to know that he would rather go with a nobody like me than a skank like you," I snap in what I think is an angry voice, but it comes out small and scared. Irina smells my fear and pounces on it.

"I'd watch it if I were you," she snarls. "Wouldn't want you to have another incident and be permanently removed from this school, would you? It's not like we don't know you're hiding underneath those ridiculous clothes. He's leagues above you, and you're nothing but a worthless, stupid slu—"

"Damn, where's the popcorn when I need it?" a voice questions amusedly.

Both of our heads snap to the source to find, of all the lousy people, Edward leaning casually against the locker two down from mine.

While I outwardly breathe a sigh of relief, I'm left reeling from his presence. I _know_ this hallway was empty. There's no way that he could have crept up that close without one of us hearing him approach. You just can't tiptoe in heavy biker boots like the ones that decorate his feet right now.

Irina visibly straightens and takes a couple steps away from me. I press my lips into a line and narrow my eyes at his presence.

_What does he think he's doing?_

"We were just talking, right Bella?" Irina says, giving Edward a simpering stare which makes me vomit.

"Looked like a very interesting conversation," he flirts, smirking that stupid half-smile at her, making Irina giggle. I think he even winks at her. I swallow down another wave of nausea and push off the locker, my back sore where my skin dug into the metal.

"Well as much fun as this chat has been, Irina, I think I'll be going to class now," I state, giving up on my locker door and just heading to class. Mrs. Delta can just deal with me not bringing my book to class.

Irina looks over to me, a little of that anger still in her eyes. "I'll see you later, Bella," she says, although it sounds like a warning.

Edward smiles a little wider at Irina, "A pleasure, Ms. Denali," he coos, his voice like cool water over a hot burn. She giggles again and I frown in disgust.

I stomp past Edward when I feel him turn behind me and follow me to the staircase. I start to ignore him, stomping determinedly down the stairs at a brisk pace.

"I must say I thought you to be a little more fiery than what you showed her," he comments, keeping up with me easily.

I grit my teeth and think of pleasant thoughts so as not to give this kid the time of day.

_Pupppies. Rainbows. Edward Cullen's head in a vice grip—_

"I mean, when I offer you a simple ride as a gesture of friendliness, you all but snap my head off. But when such a cow like Irina Denali comes charging at you, you all but cower at her," he continues, unaffected by my silence.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know how long you were standing there, but I _wasn't_ cowering."

He continues on like he doesn't hear me. "I mean, it's not like if it came to a physical fight, that she would have the upper hand. What she has in height you make up for in muscle. But that's beside the point, because she would never want to mess up her hair or face or whatever. Although, I'm not sure how she could mess her face up any_ more_ than it already—"

"What do you want?" I snap, turning around abruptly and almost running into him. I am secretly amused that he called Irina a cow, but I don't want him to know that.

He looks affronted for a split second, before returning his cocky stare

"Ah, there's that temper of yours. Don't get me wrong, it's very attractive, but I wouldn't expect it out of a girl who looked like she was trying to disappear into her locker five minutes ago."

I narrow my eyes and roll my shoulders back, trying to look as intimidating as I can. But I hate the fact that he is dead on. I _was_ trying to disappear. I didn't like Irina's reaction to me being Riley's date to the dance.

I see his eyes zero in on my lips, and his eyes grow cold.

"What happened to your lip?" he questions.

I bite it on instinct, and instantly wince at the slight pain. It's raised where the cut has healed, but he sees my expression.

"What. Happened?" he repeats, lowering his voice dangerously.

I'm a little startled by his tone. It doesn't scare me, but it does disorient me. He just went from playful to anger in 2.5 seconds.

"Nothing. Nothing happened," I lie instantly, but he sees it.

"That's bullshit."

"No it's not."

"Isabella…" he warns.

"Edward…" I counter sarcastically. I'm trying to deflect this conversation for however long I can think of a plan to run away. So far, my options include screaming or flashing him, confusing him just long enough to run the other direction.

_That last one wouldn't be a _bad_ idea per se…_

"Fine. Don't tell me," he answers, his voice curt. I abandon any thoughts of streaking and go back to just being annoyed by his presence.

"Why do you care? And why are you following me down here? Are you stalking me?" I ask in rapid fire, thinking he'll say something derisive if I pause long enough.

And just like that, the anger is gone, replaced with wickedness again.

"Why? Do you enjoy it?" he asks, stepping closer to me. My back is against the railing on the stairs, and he can see that I'm cornered.

"No," I spit. "I'm concerned for my well-being."

His eyes light in amusement at my reaction and they rake down my figure, making me blush furiously. "Mmm, yes, very attractive…but also arrogant," he states, walking past me on the stairs and to the left, towards the music class.

"This happens to be my next class. Good day, Ms. Swan." Without so much as a backwards glance, he enters the room and shuts the door.

At some point, I realize my mouth is open in astonishment, and also embarrassment. I quickly snap my mouth shut and scurry towards my class, red-faced and apologizing to Ms. Delta for being late. A few snickers from the class at my flustered appearance enter my subconscious, but I can't bring myself to care. Ms. Delta continues with her boring lecture and I immediately drift off into my own world.

I'm a little puzzled over Edward's weird behavior. It's obvious he has some sort of contempt for everyone in this school, but he acts like he is everyone's best friend. What's his deal? I bet if he tried hard enough, he would be the most popular boy in school. Instead, he just sort of hangs on the outside of the circle, never really settling into one place.

And probably the most infuriating part of all, I cann_ot _ignore the way I react to his appearance. My god, it's not for lack of trying but it's like he has some weird…pull on me. I almost feel guilty, for getting so worked up about Edward, mainly because it feels like I'm cheating on Riley. It's ridiculous, since we aren't dating, but when has Riley asking me out to a public venue a non-crazy idea?

_My god, you thought stripping naked to run away from Edward was a good idea. What part of you _isn't _crazy?_

The shrill bell clangs loudly and I'm startled out of my thoughts. Did I just think about boys this whole class period?

I get out of my seat as fast as I can; only slightly acknowledging Ms. Delta when she tells me to be more prepared next time.

_Oh Ms. Delta, you have no idea…_

My day passes by without incident, although I do get a glimpse of Riley, who smiles and waves at me from his locker. Smiling tentatively, I wave back and head towards the parking lot.

It's only when I'm in the car that I'm painfully aware of the fact that Tanya's best friend has just basically assaulted me in the hallway. And that Tanya knows about it.

"I heard you've had a very busy social life nowadays," Tanya starts, making me jump in my seat a little.

_Oh god, here it comes._

I just shrug my shoulders and try to use pure will to make this car go faster.

"Just know, you don't deserve his time. He's just bored and sees you as an amusement," she says rather bluntly, with no hint of malice in her voice, just simple, matter-of-fact.

"Whatever you say, Tanya," I reply, really not in the mood to deal with her today.

"I'm trying to help you here, Bella. I'm warning you against guys like him. He's using you," she continues, not troubled by my response.

A sick feeling falls into the pit of my stomach as I process her words. Use me. She thinks Riley is using me for…what? A joke? No doubt she hints at my feelings of inadequacy when I think of him, and is playing at my emotions.

"You're cruel," I whisper, angry that a tear rolls down my face. I quickly wipe at it, hoping she doesn't notice.

I hear a scoff, so I know she saw it. "Oh god, don't cry about it. Life is cruel, Bella. The sooner you wake up and realize it, the better," she says this with venom coating her words. Her fingers grip the steering wheel tighter and her jaw sets into a hard angle. Not wanting to continue this conversation, I ignore her for the rest of the ride home.

We walk into the front door with the living room, blissfully, empty. I may be imagining things, but I think I hear Tanya sigh in relief. I don't have long to wonder, as she brushes past me and slams the door shut to her room.

Oh well, I don't really feel like spending time with her either.

Jane is at ballet, I know, and I smell the faint aroma of a German chocolate cake. I follow my nose to the source, to find it sitting in a beautiful dish with a note beside it.

_Querida,_

_I am seeing niña at ballet. Do homework. Don't eat cake._

_Carmen_

Sighing at the luck that I have to put off having delicious cake, I settle for an apple and rush to my room to finish my homework.

After about two hours of staring at system of equations and toying with the notion that I should just strip for a living, I hear the door slam shut and the heavy footsteps of my father.

I lick the cut on my lip instinctively, reminding me of Edward's comment. Nobody but him asked about it, not even Alice. This realization hurts a little. Like the only person who would ask is basically a stranger. A mentally disturbed stranger.

A soft knock echoes through my room, but I don't even have enough time to give my consent when he enters.

"Isabella," he greets, nodding his head.

"Charles," I answer, just as formally.

He stands a little awkwardly, straightening out the sleeves of his jacket in nervousness.

If I wasn't so anxious I would have found it comical.

"Is there something you needed?" I ask, wanting him to say what he has to say then get out.

He takes a big breath and sets his mouth in a grim line. "I just wanted to apologize about…the other night." He clears his throat awkwardly, and I lick my lips again.

"I realize that I grossly overreacted and I didn't mean to hurt you," he says, his gaze leaving mine to focus on his shiny, Italian loafers.

"It's okay, Charlie," I whisper, mentally pushing him out my door. I know that he is sorry, but for now, I just want to be alone.

He nods, satisfied with my answer. "Goodnight, Bella."

A broken gasp leaves my lips as he exits my room, leaving me in total silence. Figuring that it was late enough, I switched off my lamp and got ready for bed.

I crawl in, mentally exhausted. But before I fall asleep, I whisper into the silence.

"Goodnight, Dad."

**Um…holy crap you guys. I saw that there are over 100 people reading this. You guys actually like this shit? I'm so pumped!**

**Shout-out to my first (and only) review from anonymous reader J. You rock and shit. **


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